The Joy of Childbirth

The Joy of Childbirth

Most people have a presumption that child birth is such a miraculous event that every woman should dream of the day they partake in this wondrous occasion. Well, who are they kidding? I’d say women welcome the act of conception but aren’t necessarily looking forward to nine months of weight gain, swollen ankles and the throbbing back pain. Not to mention the “wonderful experience” of squeezing a watermelon from between their legs. Yeah, this is definitely something a woman should look forward too.

The day I found out I was pregnant with my son; I was truly overjoyed except that I had to break the news to my parents. “Mama, guess what?” “You’re going to be a grandma! Yes again, well, I know I’ll be a single mom; but mom, NO! NO I don’t want to tell Daddy!! Look, I’m 21 years old, live on my own and have a respectable career in the Navy. I thought you’d be happy.” Well, needless to say my mother wasn’t exactly thrilled to know she was going to be a grandma for the seventh time, even though this was my first pregnancy. However, I was determined to prove to her and my father that this was a joyous occasion and should be celebrated.

I was entering my second trimester with all sorts of hopes and aspirations for my soon to be baby. Then, one morning I was getting ready to report for duty and it hit me! I could have run into a brick wall with my bare head and it wouldn’t have shocked me any less. I was fat! Not just having a baby fat, but my pants wouldn’t fit, my shirt was too tight, and my legs looked like part of the Titanic had floated ashore! I instantly picked up the phone – “MAAMAA!!” I cried. “I’m so fat!” Well, my mother settled me down by explaining this was all perfectly normal. “Every woman goes through the emotional strain of gaining weight during pregnancy.” I hung up thinking to myself – “what the hell does she know?” This is a disaster, I feel like the marshmallow man from Ghost Busters!” And so it began…the miraculous part. “The wonderful experiences of knowing you have a life growing inside you!” What the hell are these people thinking? I’m a fat cow with obviously an alien child trying to tear his way out of me through my lower back.

Entering my third trimester I was devastated by the massive amount of weight gain and the hideousness of having people tell me how I had that “motherly glow.” That’s not a motherly glow you idiots, that is sweat from spending several hours every morning trying to keep from vomiting this kid right out of my mouth!

My Commander suggested I take a Lamaze class to learn how to control my breathing. As if carrying this four ton sack of potatoes around for seven months didn’t teach me how to manage my breathing. My baby sister came to stay with me and be my coach. One night around midnight, I woke her up, “Angie, I can’t sleep, let’s go shopping!” So, off to Wal-Mart we went. Looking at every stitch of baby clothes, every bottle, diaper, car seat and pacifier! The more I looked the more things I realized I had to have. “Sister, can we go home now?” she said “I’m tired!” This quickly became a ritual we had to practice two to three times a week.

One week before my due date, my mother came to stay with us so she could be there to criticize my every push and scream. She was on a time limit before she had to be back at home, so the evening before my son was due to quit breaking my ribs, lying on my bladder and causing my ankles to swell to the size of full grown Clydesdales, I did something very ignorant. I took my dog for a jog! Now, the only reason this was so stupid, was all it did was make my back hurt worse, my ankles swell more, and to top that off now my breasts felt like they had been put through a meat tenderizer.

The next morning we decided to go on a shopping spree. We stopped at my boyfriend’s house first. I was standing in the kitchen when it happened. My water broke and I screamed! My sister and boyfriend came running! “What’s wrong?” The shouted! I think my water just broke!” I explained. “Angie, get mama from the car!” I demanded in a not so polite tone. My mother came rushing through the house like a rat on acid and asked “Are you sure your water broke?” I didn’t answer; all I did was raise my shirt up. “Yeap!” she said “Are you having any pain?” I just shook my head no. “Well what’s wrong?” she asked. “I’m afraid to move” I told her “I’m afraid the baby is going to fall out!” She laughed and told me to get into the car. We went to the hospital and explained to the nurse that my water had broken and I wasn’t having any discomfort yet. The nurse then called my doctor. My water broke at 12:30pm, at 3:30pm I still had not had any contractions. The doctor came in and advised inducing labor to “get things going.” At 3:45pm I wanted to kill him, his wife, his children and his mother. What in God’s name did he do that for! I was doing just fine without his help. He had to come along and piss off this demon spawn living in my stomach. I hope he goes straight to hell for this. And still I couldn’t figure out where the hell the “miracle of birth” comes in. The doctor politely asks me “Would you like me to call an anesthesiologist?” I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close, and saying in my most polite demon possessed voice “NOW!!!”

At 4:30pm the doctor came back in and informed my mother that if I didn’t let go of the nurse’s throat, she would press charges, and that the anesthesiologist had ran out of gas on the way to the hospital. So, this must be the miraculous event everyone was raving about!! Oh yeah! I could see how I’m going to jump right back on this joy train when this is over. Swearing to anyone and everyone who would listen, I was going to beat this child for putting me through this much pain.

At 5:15pm the nurse “checked how far I was dilated”. When my son reached out, grabbed her by the hair and screamed, “Get me out of hear!!” she decided it was time. Rushing me into the delivery room, my sister following, me screaming and my mother panicking, the nurse knew when would never forget this delivery. Three hellacious pushes and fifteen minutes later I was holding my beautiful angel baby boy.

What a wonderful experience! It wasn’t that bad. And by enduring a little discomfort and a small amount of pain I get to hold this beautiful person that has been growing inside of me all this time. I can’t wait to have another one. This truly was a “miraculous event”.


Savannah Sun
12/2007